You're My Sandwich
by Nosfrat
Summary: Cartman's life is weak, lame and not cool. Wendy's isn't much better. They've been trying to run from reality for years but a random event will change their lives... Candy, One-Shot. Rated T for very slight sexual content, and lots of swearing.


**Cartman's life is weak, lame and not cool. Wendy's isn't much better. They've been trying to run from reality for years but a random **  
**event will change their lives... Candy, One-Shot. Rated T for very slight sexual content, and lots of swearing.**

A/N: _this is my first fic ever, and the first time I've ever written anything in English for that matter. I am NOT a native English _  
_speaker nor did I study it at school so, I apologize for the potential spelling/grammar mistakes. POVs switch throughout this one-shot _  
_but it should be pretty obvious who is who. There might be a little OOCness due to the fact I wrote that mostly to exteriorize my _  
_feelings so yeah, while Cartman and I share remarkable similarities, we're not the exact same. I'm pretty sure Wendy's in character _  
_though._

Oh also, Matt and Trey own South Park, I don't. I, however, own the angsty feeling I portrayed Cartman having.

* * *

Weak. If I had to describe my life with a single word, that's the one I would choose. Fucking weak. Totally lame, and absolutely not  
cool.  
Nothing much has changed in the past six years, except that the complete destruction of the town has become a very rare occurence. Most  
people in town have changed quite a lot, though.

Let's start with Kyle... He's still that little sneaky Jew he's always been, but he's now standing at nearly six feet and has developed  
his muscles through sport. He got rid of his ushanka and kept his curly hair remarkably tidy... He'd almost look attractive. Wait, what  
the hell am I thinking? ...still, one day his lips will meet my balls, I swore this a long time ago.

Kenny isn't the poor piece of crap he was anymore but he's still among the poorest people in town. His parents went through rehab and  
Stuart managed to get a job, allowing him to feed his family and pay bills. The rest of his family, well, no one ever really gave a fuck  
about them, right? He's still pretty skinny, but he traded his orange parka for an orange shirt, letting his slightly curly, messy hair  
hang down to his shoulders. He looks pretty good... Wait, what the fuck? Nevermind that, I hate poor people anyway.

Token moved out of town a few years ago after an incident involving a fat kid nearly killing his parents for a few buckets of KFC.  
Little did I know it was my order that got swapped with theirs...

Stan came out of the closet in the eighth grade, which wasn't a surprise for anybody but Wendy, and his current boyfriend Butters, who,  
back then, was still trying to make another kissing company with Bebe, until he found out that she was actually a lesbian.

Stan's pretty average physically, standing at about five feet and ten inches, average build and average hair length. Butters is about  
the same, his hair is short and closer to white than blonde, and he still wears his fake fangs from time to time. They even drink tomato  
juice during their "sleepovers" when Stan decides he wants to be called Raven again...  
I'm sure they have some kind of sick fetish roleplay with this shit, these faggots. Jesus...

At least it got him out of his "shit" era, not everything looks and sounds like shit to him anymore.

Speaking of Wendy, she never recovered from learning about her ex-boyfriend's sexuality. In fact, she had a mental breakdown and spent  
several weeks in a mental institute, and swore she'd never ever get close to a guy ever again. And since she's straight, well, she's  
been focusing on her studies, and nothing else. She is homeschooled now and no one has seen her in quite a few months...  
Bebe, who now had a girlfriend, had lost all friendship with her. Stan, well, he was obviously the reason she became like that. And the  
only other boy who ever paid attention to her was Token...

No wonder, everyone hates that stupid hippy bitch... Especially me, I hate her so fucking much... I've been forcing myself to believe  
that for so long that maybe I'll end up truly hating her. Hell, she beat my ass in front of the entire school after all, how could I NOT  
hate her?  
How could I not hate her stupid, long, silky, shiny raven hair, her pretty smooth, doll-like face and beautiful green eyes, her perfect  
curves, her...  
Fuck, I hate her, I always did and I always will. That's final.

But onto me now, well... I've changed quite a lot. I grew my hair at about shoulder blade length, and I still have a lot of nuts to kick  
considering how many people have been calling me a hippy. I have a nose ring that I got when I tried to form a second boy-band with  
Bebe, Red, Butters (as Marjorine) and Henrietta, and I never really bothered taking it off... It looks kinda good I guess.  
Everyone told me that boy-bands were usually composed of five boys but I had to agree with Henrietta that this was some conformist  
bullshit. Anyway guys weren't up for it so I tried to do with what I had.

I got a swastika tattooed on my left buttcheek, one day my whore of a mom had a tattoo parlor as client, and I caught him stealing some  
jewerly while she was asleep. After beating him to a pulp, I was about to call the police (strictly for humiliation, it's not like  
Barbrady would have been able to do anything useful, I'm pretty sure he even forgot how to read) when he made me an offer.  
He gives me a tattoo for free, and he gets the fuck outta South Park, forever. I accepted, after asking him for an extra thousand bucks,  
and got myself something that'd totally please the Führer.

Physically I haven't changed much, I developed impressive physical strength but most of it comes from the anger and hate I can't afford  
to unleash anymore, unlike when I was a kid. I do have some muscles but I'm rather small at five feet and seven inches, and still big-  
boned at about two hundred and fifty pounds. I have to wear fucking glasses because, it turns out that this poor piece of shit Kenny  
didn't have such good eyesight after all... As you can guess, I'm not happy at all about my current situation.  
I'm still living at my mom's, but now in the basement so I don't have to endure the endless moans and screams every fucking night.

We're all around sixteen now, and apart from Wendy and Kyle, no one really cares about school. I don't know what they do in their spare  
time but I spend most of my time in my basement listening to metal and playing video games, and I'm happy with it. I can't stand  
people... All these fucking hippies, looking all happy and shit, God I hate them all. So much.

But one day, as I was arguing over some online FPS game about how Jews can't aim, something happened. Shit had gone from weak to super  
weak. I wasn't sure whether it could get any more weak for me or not.

* * *

"Eat that you fucking Jew! Ha, Jews can't aim, you should go count your Jew gold instead!" he yelled in his mic as he unloaded his G36C  
assault rifle on a certain 'Oreo_33'. The answer came fast, a disappointed groan followed by a female voice barking angrily "shut up,  
noob".  
Cartman loved this, he loved making people pissed in video games. Especially girls. Girls suck at video games, they suck at everything,  
they should just be making him sandwiches anyway. Sure, making people mad online didn't have the same satisfying feeling as doing it in  
real life used to give him but at least no one could come back with potentially harmful responses. Wait, what was he thinking? He's Eric  
fucking Cartman, nothing and no one can harm him.

After killing that particular player several times in a row, Cartman was holding back a laugh as he saw the little message "Oreo_33 left  
the game." popping up. He felt like he had accomplished something. He leaned back in his computer chair and thought for a while.  
"I made this bitch rage, haha! I'm good... Wait... I'm sixteen years old, living in my basement, and my only pleasure in life is pissing  
off random people online... Yeah whatever, if I think it's good, then it IS good. I'm always right anyway."

His (back then) friends weren't wrong when saying the only thing bigger than his ass was his ego, but he would never realize it. For him  
it was just obvious, he was always right and everyone else was either wrong, a hippy, or both. But deep inside, there was something...  
Something wrong. He knew that somehow he was living in the shadow of his own lies, to himself. He had to keep it up though, he just  
didn't have the strength to deal with reality anymore.

He wasn't stupid, and his mind was twisting itself and wandering off more often than his mom's ass. He just couldn't help it, he  
couldn't stop these thoughts that haunted him, and made every single second of his life pure hell. He just couldn't see a point in  
hanging with other people anymore, even hurting them wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it used to be.

He just had to survive... Yeah, he just had to wait, and something would happen and everything would change. He'd be happy all of a  
sudden. He wanted to believe that so badly that a part of him was starting to be sure it would be the case. The other part, however, was  
still stunned by that female voice that sounded strangely familiar...

"Bitches all sound the same, stupid hippies on their period all the time." he said out loud, pathetically trying to rassure himself. He  
brushed his hair with his hand and held back a moan at how greasy and dirty it was. He mumbled something about hippies and got up. He  
was smelling like Cheesy Poofs, beer and sweat anyway, he could use a shower.

He undressed, looked at his naked body in the mirror and sighed, before stepping in the shower and letting the warm stream of water calm  
him down. His thoughts were wandering once again, but this time it was about that female voice... It was confusingly familiar and the  
word 'oreo' was bringing him memories he'd rather erase from his mind. The hot water slamming onto his skin was somewhat appeasing but  
he was starting to feel aroused. He didn't know why but he decided to take care of it while he was in the shower...

He did his best not to think about 'her', but he couldn't. He intensified his pace and after cumming loudly and messily, his back hit  
the wall and he collapsed on the ground, tears freely pouring from his eyes, his head in his hands. He couldn't take it anymore, he had  
to do something... And crying was the only thing he could do.

Eric Cartman doesn't cry, but Eric Cartman does whatever the fuck he wants when no one's around to witness it.

* * *

I woke up in the bathroom, naked, with water everyfuckingwhere, semen on the wall and my face sticky and salty. What the fuck happened?  
Did Mom even come home this night?  
Oh... No, this didn't happen, it was just a bad dream. Kyle broke into my house and made up this whole thing, it's a scheme to make me  
think I fell asleep after crying so much about... Wait, how the hell could I know what happened so precisely unless...

No, it CANNOT be real. I don't cry. Not for her. Not for anybody. THIS DID NOT FUCKING HAPPEN!

My voice echoed in the entire neighborhood, and I could have sworn I heard a Jewish redhead saying "yes it did".

My mind was starting to play tricks on me, I had to do something. But what can I do? I'm just gonna log on and cap some more noobs, I  
thought.

After a while, getting kicked of pretty much every server after various insults related to race and religion, I ended up on the one I  
was playing on yesterday. And then I saw her. Oreo_33. Who the fuck was that bitch anyway? I didn't care, I was gonna light her up,  
badly. I equipped my cheapest weapon setup and started hunting her down, singing some Slayer in my mic to hopefully confuse her and  
throw her (and everybody's) aim off.

However my expectations weren't met, my trigger finger was just locking up as the sight of a bunch of pixels with that fucking nickname  
above it. I could not shoot her. What the fuck was wrong with me? I instantly thought of justifying myself.

"You fucking cheating whore!" I yelled, knowing perfectly that even someone as clueless and naïve as Butters could have told I was  
talking shit out of pure anger.  
"What are you talking about, dickhead? I'm not cheating, learn to play!" she answered. Her voice... Her fucking voice!  
"Who the fuck are you? I fucking know you, I know I do!" I practically screamed in my mic.  
"No you don't know me, even if you are one of these bastards, you don't know me. You don't know me anymore!".  
One of these bastards? What the hell was she talking about?  
"What the fuck are you talking about you stupid ho?"

A long silence ensued. This couldn't be...

* * *

"Ho."

NO ONE had called me that since the fourth grade. Eric fucking Cartman, the only one who ever called me that. Ranting about Jews,  
accusing me of cheating to cover up his rage... It's him, I know it's him. Why?  
I swore I had left all my past behind, all these stupid bastards who never did anything to help me while I was going through hell after  
finding out about Stan... I never wanted to even hear from them anymore. Why, of all people, Eric Cartman? The only person I knew would  
understand my sudden hatred of everyone and everything, or at least agree with it, and thus the only person who maybe would have been  
able to help me, although he probably only would have wanted to destroy me even further...

I angrily smashed my keyboard, ripped off my headset and winced at the pain of several of my hair being torn off as well, and bursted in  
tears. I always secretely wanted to talk to him, explain to him everything that I had to go through... I knew he'd have used it against  
me and it'd have made things even worse for me but I just needed to tell him. I just needed to show him I was as helpless as it gets,  
and that only he could do something about me. I was practically wanting to give Cartman the power to maybe change my life, the  
authoritah as he says.

Why? I never knew, deep inside since that flag debate I know he has a soft side, that would only show up if we were together. Maybe he'd  
use it to help me, and not hurt me? Maybe he's in deep shit as well? I don't really imagine Cartman playing games all the time, he  
probably has better stuff to do, such as exterminating minorities or something.  
But I saw his nick a LOT lately, it's unusual for him to stay at home all the time. Maybe... What do I have to lose? Even if we end up  
arguing I could spew all the hate I've been holding inside for the past few years... I have to see him. I put my headset back on and  
tried to sound calm.

"Fatass?" I asked hesitantly.  
"Hey, I'm big-boned you stupid hippy bitch!" his voice answered.  
"You're fat, Cartman. But I need to talk to you."  
"Wendy?" his voice was trying to sound surprised but it was quite obvious he knew who I was.  
"Cartman please, we need to have a serious talk. You need to come to my place, I really need to talk to you."  
"Bitch I'm sorry, I can't give you no advices about making sandwiches or helping whales and hugging trees and other shit you hippies  
like doing. Leave me alone."  
"Don't make me beat your fat ass a second time."  
"Not this time you wouldn't, I'd fucking destroy you!"  
"I don't think so, you can't imagine the strength anger can give you."  
"Oh yes I can imagine it, I'm angrier than you are. And it's all your fucking fault."  
"How the fuck is it MY fault? I never did anything to you!"  
"EXACTLY! You never did anything to me! Stupid whore and your fucking hippy-ass cockloving boyfriend! I hate you all!"  
"Don't bring that up or I swear I'll kill you."  
"Jesus, don't you fucking realize?"  
"Realize what?"  
"God, you really need me to fucking spell it out?"  
"Yes."  
"Fuck this. Make me a goddamn sandwich right now, I'll be at your house in ten minutes."  
"But I-'  
"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO AS I SAY!"

Somehow I couldn't resist, as angry and dangerous as he sounded, I've been wanting to see him, to talk to him for so long, I couldn't  
pass up on such an opportunity.

I reluctantly said "alright fatass, but you better have something important to tell me 'cause I'm not in  
the mood for your shit right now". No answer. He had left the server, I'm not even sure he heard what I said but then, it's Cartman...  
Always assuming anything he says will be done no matter what. And sadly he was right. I was making a second sandwich, since I was  
feeling hungry too, when the doorbell rang. I ran down the stairs and opened the door.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

Sure, it was the same fat brunette boy I knew since kindergarten but he looked so... different. His rather long, hazel hair was hanging  
all the way down to his shoulders, his nose ring was spicing up his actually pretty attractive face and his eyes were shining, looking  
like he had cried recently. The Cartman I used to know would never have cried, would never have gotten a piercing and would never have  
grew his hair past his ears... He wasn't even smelling like Cheesy Poofs!

The sadness in his eyes left me speechless. It was maybe even more shocking than the fact that Cartman could actually display feelings.

* * *

"So, are you gonna let me in or what?" he asked, interrupting her gaze, the low, gravy tone in his voice sending shivers down her spine.  
"Uh ye, yes, sure, come in Eric." she said, trying to sound as natural as she could.  
"Now you call me Eric? Something's wrong with you, ho."  
"Everything's wrong with me, fatass. And with you too. What did you have to tell me?"  
"Why did you leave Stan?"  
She thought she was gonna kill him. She did her best not to burst in tears and answered with a murderous look "I did not dump him. He is  
gay, he left me for Butters."  
"I know, I'm just fucking with you, chill out ho."  
She was really trying hard to contain herself.  
"Eric, you said you had something to tell me, so please just tell me and go away, I don't need your immature shit right now."

In fact, she'd have given anything to lay down in his arms and listen to him spew hate about Jews and hippies and other people he didn't  
like.

"I have nothing to tell you."  
Cartman was, for the first time in his entire life, afraid and unable to say what he wanted to say. This feeling was enough to make him  
shiver.  
"I'm sure you do, I can read a familiar feeling in your eyes..."  
"Like you hippies had feelings!"  
"Funny, I thought you were the sadistic asshole unable to feel anything here."  
"I FUCKING AM. I FUCKING WAS! Until I met your bitch ass... I can't fucking hold it, do you understand that?"  
"Eric, please tell me what's the matter."  
"I CAN'T! I CAN'T SAY SUCH A THING! You'd never share this feeling anyway, I can't, I can't be seen or even imagined able to feel love  
for someone... especially not for a goddamn hippy like you! Screw you I'm going home, I'm just gonna fucking end it all! End all this  
shit once and for all..."

Before he could make a move, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward her. Although he was easily twice as heavy as she was,  
they both landed on the couch unharmed, him on top of her.

"I wish I could have talked to you a long time ago, but I couldn't... I love you, Eric! I need you!" she bursted in tears.

The last time Cartman felt so relieved to see tears, those were Scott Tenorman's. He instinctively leaned into her face and licked one  
of her tears.

"What the hell are you... What are you doing?"  
"I love you Wendy, I always did, for as long as I can remember... I love you."

He laid his lips on hers and passed a hand in her hair. Neither of them moved, their lips locked and the tip of their tongues touching.  
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. After a few minutes, Cartman pulled away from the kiss, ran a finger on her lips,  
practically asking her to open her mouth, and laid his lips against hers again, sliding his tongue inside her mouth, playing with hers.

It was pure bliss, something neither of them thought they'd ever feel.  
Their hearts were racing, their blood was pumping, their bodies were grinding against each other's, their lips and tongues were tightly  
locked into the most passionate and intense embrace you could possibly imagine.

As the minutes passed, as the tongues twisted, as the tears flowed, as happiness and relief were taking over hate and sadness, no matter  
what they weren't gonna pull away.

They stayed there, laying on the couch practically on top of each other for several hours, eventually falling asleep. Wendy woke up  
first, in their sleep she had rolled on top of Cartman, his chest drenched with her tears, and his face peaceful. She was clenching his  
large chest and nudging her head below his neck. He woke up slowly, looked at her with his eyes still shining with tears, and kissed her  
again.

"I'm so happy Stan's gay." he said, looking at her like he had found his Holy Grail.  
After thinking for a moment, Wendy kissed him back and murmured "and I'm happy, though surprised, that you're not".  
"Ay! I love you, you damn hippy."  
"I love you too, fatass. Want your sandwich?"

"You're my sandwich" he said, as he dug his teeth in her neck, earning a moan from his new girlfriend, while he made his way upwards,  
his tongue tickling her earlobe, earning more and more moans, and a tighter grasp on his shoulders.

They knew they wouldn't have to hurt  
or hate anyone anymore. They knew they wouldn't have to hide and cry anymore. They knew they were always meant for each other... But  
sometimes it takes pain to achieve happiness.

* * *

A/N: _as I said this is the first thing I have ever written so, feel free to give me (constructive) feedback on how/what to improve, etc._


End file.
